You wake up with rays of sunlight shining right at your face. It's warm and bright and really fucking with your head. You've got a hangover to rival the one you had after the night when you'd first started drinking, and that one was pretty damn bad. You feel as if a tractor rolled over your head after someone had punched you in the face. You groan as you blink your eyes open and roll to the side to escape the sun. It's aggravating your head and you're content to just lay here forever until it dawns on you that you don't have a window that faces your bed. In fact this isn't your bed at all.

You are in fact in a bed, but it's pretty clear this isn't your house. You glance down at yourself. You're still wearing the clothes you had on yesterday minus your jacket, and shit you really ought to have grabbed some stuff to wear before you left your apartment. Patting your pockets reveals you haven't in fact been robbed; both your wallet and your phone tucked safely inside. You can feel the cold chain of your father's necklace resting on your collarbone.

You try sitting up but whatever movement you made was soon aborted as your head decides it doesn't like it. You ease yourself up slowly, scooting into a sitting position and glancing around the room. It's a little messy, clothes thrown over the various surfaces in the bedroom. There's a chair and desk in the corner, a plain closet and a bedside table. It's quaint, although much smaller than anything you're accustomed to. Not that you're in a position to complain.

Before you have a chance to pass anymore judgements on the room, a blond man comes in the doorway, looking at you with a glass of water in one hand and a few pills in the other. Bless his soul. You...recognise him after a beat, this is the same guy who was serving drinks at the bar you were at last night. The guy who asked if you were alright. And now it appears you're in his house. In his bed no less. Well shit.

You don't think anything happened but you don't remember jack after hitting that pole. You touch your forehead in the spot where it hit you, hoping there isn't a red spot or something equally mortifying. The man stops when he nears the bed, extending his offerings to you. Up close, you get a better look at him and frankly speaking, he's goddamn gorgeous. You doubt he's a natural blond, but it suits him. He's tall and lean, and shit if he doesn't seem like he hits the gym every now and again. He's dressed in a grey t-shirt and black cargo pants with a ton of pockets. You notice out of the corner of your eye that he isn't wearing shoes and his socks have a hole in them.

"Here, take these. They'll help with the ah," He points at his head to indicate your hangover, bringing the pills and water closer to your face. His voice washes over you like honey, low and smooth, and while you're apprehensive about taking drugs from some guy you don't know, you're inclined to trust this man. Plus, your head really fucking hurts and you'd very much like that to stop.

"I'm Shizuo. Shizuo Heiwajima," He tells you as you swallow down the medicine. You blink twice. It doesn't kick in immediately of course, but there's that relief that comes from knowing you took pain pills and they'll do something eventually. You glance back up at his face. His name suits him, you think.

"Izaya," You respond. You don't give your last name as you're not really comfortable enough to just drop your full name. On top of that, you're kinda pissed at your family right now so fuck them. Who needs to be an Orihara anyway. If he notices the lack, he doesn't call you out on it.

You move to get up and out of the bed, swinging your legs to the side but pausing as you move a might bit too fast. Shizuo jerks in response, putting his hands out as if to stop you, then thinking better of it and letting them drop to his sides. You're not really sure what you're doing, but you figure it's time you stopped imposing on this man.

"Thanks. For the pills," you say. "Do you have my jacket?"

"Oh yeah," Shizuo grunts as he walks to his closet and produces the jacket you were wearing last night, handing it to you. You nod at him, walking with your head down out of the room, finding the front door of the small house without any trouble. You discover your shoes at the door and slip them on, leaving without another word.

You have no idea what part of town this is, or how close it was to the bar you'd been at last night, but the neighbourhood seems pretty shady so you start walking at a brisk pace. Your head is clearing up and you're glad of that as you're forced to stare into the sunlight every time you raise your head. You don't stop walking until you get to a part of town you recognise, and the first thing you see is a convenience store. You consider picking something up until you remember you've got no money. The thought really bums you out and you take a moment to curse your dead father with all your heart. Fuck him. As far as you were concerned, he did this to you and everything that happened from here on out was his fault. You started walking again with a renewed vigour.

It's amazing actually how much energy a fueled anger can give you, because you wind up three miles from the convenience store at a little park by the time you're finished fuming. You sit down rather indignantly, still unwilling to accept any part of what has become your life. To be honest, you're still waiting for someone to jump out and say this is all a joke and apologise for giving you such a runaround. It doesn't happen though, and some part of you knows it won't, but denial is more than a river in Egypt.

You assume it's around noon when your stomach starts to wonder why you haven't eaten since yesterday, but of course your wallet has no answer to give it. It does give you a good idea of how to kill time however, as you get up and walk all the way to the nearest grocery store. It's almost like a game as you go through the food sections hunting for free samples. You find a few, and once you even manage to snag more than one sample when the vendor wasn't looking, and its enough to assuage your stomach for the time being. You're not used to being homeless and broke, but right now it kind of feels like being free; like you're playing some kind of game and can stop at any time.

You mess around some more in the store, acting like a true patron who could buy something when really you're waiting for a shift change so you can swing around for more samples. When you tire of that, you leave, wondering what it is people do to keep themselves occupied. You suppose most of them must work, but that's never been your thing so you walk around the city to see what there is to see. The adrenaline has yet to wear off, so you truly do feel as if this is a game, not quite real. You fall back on one of your favourite hobbies; people watching.

There are children annoying their mothers in the park, and across the street, young, college age kids smoking and laughing. Kids never really were your thing, and you think bitterly of the girls you now know to be your sisters. It adds to your distaste for children. You watch as they run around screaming with one another and young looking women coo at them and chat with other mothers. You look on for a moment longer, but these families are much too happy and it's starting to bum you out. You never really did this as a kid, going to the park, you just sat around in your big empty house.

You walk until your feet hurt, popping into a fast food restaurant as the sky darkens. You take a table in the back and watch people come in and out, some sitting, some not. Most are accompanied by a group or at least another person, a few solitary. It's amusing to you what kinds of people come in here; mostly suits that seem rushed, skinny young girls and fat middle aged men. There's of course the occasional family, and you see a couple or two, but generally it's the sort of crowd you expect.

You manage to overhear a conversation or two, some stupid girl wondering why her classmate doesn't lover her and a man far too worked up over a virtual game he looks way too old for. You're snickering to yourself by the time you decide you've stayed too suspiciously long and exit the restaurant. Your stomach doesn't seem to like the fact that you left without buying any of those things your nose was smelling in the air, but it isn't like you've got too much of a choice. You're itching to go back to the bar to see if someone will buy you a drink, but decide against it. You're more concerned about where you'll be sleeping tonight.

Heading back to the park, you scout out an ideal spot to camp out but you're not very good at it. You end up deciding the tube slide is the best bet, so you curl up just inside, hoping you wont fall out in the course of the night.

"Mommy, mommy look! There's a man in the slide!"

"What are you talking about sweetie?"

"Look! Look! There he is! He's right inside!"

You blink your heavy eyelids, rousing at the sound of the shrill voice. The next thing you're aware of is a little hand poking you in the leg.

"Mister, why are you stuffed up in there?" she asks you, her eyes wide. You don't have a chance to answer though, because soon enough her mother is dragging her away, her face horrified. She probably thinks you're some kind of pedophile. Fucking fantastic.

You crawl out of the slide, or, more accurately, slide out, landing in an unceremonious heap on the ground. You get up, brushing wood chips off your ass and hightailing it out of there before someone calls the cops. You stretch as you walk, your back in pain from the uncomfortable sleeping position. This day goes much like the last, with you walking and people watching when you weren't swiping samples from the store. You considered yourself rather resourceful, getting away with not buying anything two days in a row.

That night you do go to the bar, because you can't stand the dryness in your throat anymore. You sit at a stool and wait, asking the bartender for just a glass of water. He gets it for you, and you notice Shizuo back behind the counter as well. You consider saying hello but don't, because you don't even know if he'd want to talk to the drunk guy who slept in his bed. A few guys and even one gutsy chick do offer to buy you drinks, to which you accept each time, because you're not about to reject free shit. You're beyond tipsy when you stumble outside, crashing this time behind the bar.

It's not your smartest decision; when you wake up your jacket is gone. You still have your empty wallet, tucked in your pants, but you really liked that fur trim coat and now its just gone without a trace. To make bad matters worse, the alley you're laying in kind of smells like piss. You get up, disgusted, feeling dirty and hungry as fuck. You try hitting the store for samples today, but none of the vendors seem to be there handing out free food. It wasn't great living on free samples, but now you have nothing, and your stomach fucking hurts. It's making noises at you while you walk around, and suddenly nothing feels like a game anymore.

You have limits. You do. But you're not used to actually feeling like you're starving and it not being an exaggeration. It makes you avoid any place that sells food the entire fucking day. By the fourth day however, you're done. You're completely fucking done and by 5:30 in the evening, you're rifling through the garbage cans behind a fast food place. Half eaten and partially finished sodas are your best friend.

You're startled when you hear someone behind you and you turn you head to see Shizuo peering at you from across the street. He's squinting and when he sees you he looks confused, and you can't handle it so you abandon your can, not even flinching when you hear it loudly fall over behind you as you walk away from the scene as fast as you can. You feel filthy and pissed and ashamed and you just don't want people to look at you right now.

The fifth day you feel so filthy that you pop into a gas station and use the bathroom, only so you can strip off your shirt and splash water on your face and rub it under your arms and down your chest, aided by the crappy bathroom soap. You rinse off the same way and you're glad the mirror is so blurry because you're sure that if you could see yourself right now you'd break down.

You don't really want to go back to the bar, because you know Shizuo works there and he literally saw you fucking dig through the trash and eat it, but you need water and you need to be taken out of your thoughts, so you go. You let as many strangers buy you drinks as offer, and you swear you can feel Shizuo frowning at you. You pretend not to notice when he asks if you're okay.

It becomes a routine almost, digging through the trash during the day and drinking yourself silly at night, but it isn't until the eighth day that you drink any kind of dangerous amount. By then you're sick of your nasty clothes and your filthy new habits and you're sick of yourself and honestly do not even want to see your own face anymore. You purposely flirt with people and end up with more drinks than ever before. You don't leave until this bar is closing up and you're just as drunk as the first day, hardly capable of even stumbling out the door. You take maybe six shaky steps, slow, unstable steps, before a strong hand wraps around your arm. "Come with me."

You allow this presence to lead you, not even lucid enough to deduce that it might not be a good idea, but when you look beside you, in the dark the man looks...you really just think yellow? But that reminds you of Shizuo so you trust it's him and stumble along. When the two of you get inside, you're lead into the bathroom where you proceed to retch into the toilet multiple times. You do manage to wipe your mouth before everything just kind of blinks out.

When you wake the next day, you're in Shizuo's bed again. You can tell because you recognise the room. You yawn, wincing at the familiar feeling of a bad hangover as you sit up. You feel like nothing but a fuck up right now honestly. It's made worse by the humbling surge of emotion that washes over you when Shizuo walks in with water and pills much like he did before.

"This is getting to be a regular thing eh?" He jokes half-halfheartedly as he hands the items to you. You try to smile back but you really just feel like shit so you stop trying. His smile falls.

"Do you uh...do you have somewhere to be?" He asks, frowning now. He seems more contemplative than anything, and you wonder if you said anything to him last night before you passed out. He's so close to you. You've seen him a few times now, but this time you really look at him. His eyes are what strike you, odd in that they're such a light brown that they're almost amber, the colour of honey and tree sap. Then again, you're one to talk, your eyes so brown they border on red.

You could lie, and for a minute you feel like you should, but things are so messed up right now that you find yourself telling him the truth. "Nope," You say, eyes dropping from his face as you rub a finger into the sore muscles on the back of your neck.

"Got any place to stay?"

Again you want to lie to him, but his expression is so sincere in its concern. He seems like he's an honest guy and maybe its rubbing off on you too. Regardless, you really don't, living on the street is fucking killing you at this point. The lack of control you have over the world scares the shit out of you. "Another nope," You tell him, your voice nonchalant like this is something you do all the time. Like you're some kind of migrant or traveler.

He's silent then, just looking at your face. It's kind of unnerving actually, how he just...stares. You hold his gaze though, because you don't want him to think you're some kind of shy pansy. You wonder to yourself what he's doing. Judging your character? Trying to sum up who you are just by staring really hard? You are after all a perfect stranger to him, who he apparently let into his house on two separate occasions. You can't tell much from trying to read his expression, which surprises you because you're usually pretty good at that.

"Do you want some tea?" Is what he finally ends up saying, so you guess you passed his little test. You nod, standing and following him out of the room. Unlike last time you were here, you look around now. The rest of the house is much like the room you came out of; small and mostly bare. It's a little drafty actually now that you're paying attention, and you wish you still had your jacket.

There aren't too many rooms really, as soon as you exit the bedroom you see a bathroom across the hall and then the two of you walk immediately into a living room kind of thing. Its got two couches that look a little worse for wear, a small, old looking television straight out of the 90s, and the second half of the room bleeds into the kitchen. It's all like one large room. There's an island that separates the kitchen part from the living room, and behind it a table. There's a counter against the walls with basic kitchen stuff, a fridge, a microwave, some cabinets, nothing fancy. Shizuo walks into the kitchen to prepare the tea, grabbing a bag from inside a cupboard. You hang back, leaning on the other side of the island.

"Green tea okay?" He asks, looking at you. You nod, and can't help but notice how he just sticks a mug with water in it into the microwave instead of trying to boil it. When the water is hot, he drops the tea bag in and hands it over to you to steep at your discretion.

"Thanks," You say, prodding the bag in the mug of water. He stands on the side of the island inside the kitchen and looks at you as you wait on your tea. Nothing is said for the longest time and you start to wonder if starting at people is just something he does. Eventually, you chance a sip of your tea, but end up burning your tongue as it hits your mouth. You frown for a fraction of a second before schooling your face back to a neutral expression.

"Well. Izaya," He starts, pausing to clear his throat. "You're not a serial killer are you?"

The question catches you off guard and you almost choke on a sip of tea. "...What? No, of course not," You answer indignantly between coughs.

He waits until you're finished choking to continue. "Do you sell drugs?"

"Listen, man, if you're looking to buy something illegal you've got the wrong guy, I don't do that shit and-"

"No, I'm not I just wanted to know. I'll take your word for it," He interrupts, throwing you off again with his smile. It seems like this is all some kind of joke, but at the same time his smile strikes you as earnest. "Look, if you need somewhere to stay, there's not too much space but you can crash with us. Me and my brother. 'Til you can get back on your feet y'know."

You don't say anything, watching his face as he makes his offer. On the one hand, the last thing you want to do is inconvenience this guy and live with a complete stranger. This whole situation makes you supremely uncomfortable. He doesn't even know you! And from the look of his house, he doesn't even have much to give. Your mistrusting nature tells you to turn him down, but you do think about the offer for a second. Something is better than nothing and nothing is what you have. Absolutely nothing. So realistically you're not really in a place to turn him down...but it still makes you uneasy.

"...Really?" You press, not quite believing your luck.

"I mean you don't have to, I just don't wanna let you go back out on the street if you've got no place to live," He explains, the frown back on his face.

Again you wonder if you said anything to him while you were drunk, but decide to leave that under the rug. This really does seem like your best shot, weird as it may be. And if it doesn't work, you can always leave after all. "If it's fine with you, that'd be great, thanks," You say with a nod.

Shizuo seems to glow with your acceptance. He smiles and gives you a nod in return. "Yeah, yeah, it's totally fine. I gotta go to work soon, but my brother's over there," he gestures at a spot in the living room where you notice there's actually a bed with a person laying in it. "I'll be back around 6, we can talk more about this then. Cool?"

You raise an eyebrow. This was a strange turn of events for sure. But you kind of like this guy. "Yeah, sure."

"Great," He says, walking into the living room to wake up his brother. He murmurs something to him for a second before the guy sits up. He looks young, younger than you anyway, but not by much. You guess he's around 19 or 20 from his face. "Kasuka, this is Izaya," Shizuo introduces. "Izaya, this is my little brother, Kasuka."

You take a step closer and raise a hand in a half wave. God, this was awkward. "Hey," you offer. He doesn't say anything back, but he nods at you and turns to look at his brother.

"Shit, yeah so I gotta go get ready, I'll see you both tonight then," Shizuo says as he goes back into his bedroom, leaving you with his brother. Kasuka seems to share Shizuo's tendency to stare and it just makes you that much more uncomfortable. You don't let it show however, as you take a seat on one of the couches. It's not especially soft; the couch seems thin in the way they tend to get when they're old. You can practically feel the springs. You wonder what kind of people these brothers are. You glance up as Shizuo comes out, waving goodbye at his brother and you suppose you as well, before leaving.

Kasuka still says nothing to you, but he's not looking right at you anymore. You take in more of this little house; the small cracks in some of the walls, the chipping paint job, Kasuka's bed on the floor in the corner of the living room. If there was any doubt before, you're pretty sure now. These guys were poor as hell. You start to feel bad for them until you recall the horrible week you've had and the fact that you're just as broke as they are if not more so. That's a depressing thought.

Glancing at Kasuka, you can see how he and Shizuo would be related. They don't look just like each other, but there's definitely a similarity. Kasuka's hair is a chocolate brown, and you assume that must be Shizuo's natural colour too. His eyes are sleepy looking, the same colour as his hair. He hasn't said a word since you got here and you wonder about that but let it go since this is where he lives. He can be a mute in his own house if that's what he wants.

You pull your legs up onto the couch, stretching out sideways. The funny thing is, thinking back to when you had a place to live, you can't seem to recall what you did with your time all day. You must have done something this past year, and it wasn't college, but for the life of you you're not sure what. In your childhood you did a lot of reading, because that's what you had most of around your house, books. You wonder to yourself if Shizuo's got any books around here as you doze off.

The feel of something poking you in the shoulder is what wakes you up, blinking your eyes to find out what's happening. Kasuka is standing in front of you and he's got a plate of what looks like holy fuck is that macaroni you haven't had that shit in years. You take it from him with a small smile and a nod of thanks, and he just looks at you with his blank expression. This time it's not quite as uncomfortable. You swing your legs back around and sit up normally, leaving Kasuka room to sit next to you. You shovel the food down in silence, but it's not so bad.

"Got cable?" You ask him when you're finished with your food. He takes your plate and places it in the sink, coming back to where you're sitting and silently handing you the remote. You flick on the t.v, scrolling through channels of nothing good. You end up on some nature shit; some kind of documentary on walruses. Walruses are pretty cool so you stay on that channel, relaxing back against the couch once more. Kasuka stays there next to you, still not talking but you think he's just giving you company.

The two of you sit there, you nodding on and off, until Shizuo gets back. You really regret not having a watch, because you have no idea whether or not its six, but he's here regardless. "Kasuka? I'm back," He calls at the door, taking his shoes off inside. The curious thing is, he's wearing a bartender's uniform. You can't imagine he works there during the day too. Your confusion must show, because when he comes over to where you and Kasuka are sitting he explains himself. "I uh, I work in security I just...have a lot of these," he tells you and you decide to let it go. You're not even sure what he means by that. There's a plastic bag in his hand that rustles when he moves to sit on the couch adjacent to you. "I brought us back some food, though," he says, pulling out styrofoam boxes that look suspiciously like Chinese take out. Hell yes.

The three of you dig in right there on the couch since Shizuo doesn't appear to have a dining room. Or all that many tables. You can tell the food is just a cheap knock off of real Chinese but anything would taste good to you right now. You're halfway through an egg roll when Kasuka excuses himself to go to the bathroom. He doesn't say as much, but he throws his mess away and silently heads in that direction. Shizuo takes that as his cue to talk to you. "So...what's your story?" He asks, eyebrow raised.

You don't know him well, nor are you sure how much you can trust him, so you neglect to spill your whole life story. It's not like he'd want to hear that anyway. You sum it all up with, "I was recently evicted, and I'm not making any money right now." He nods, like he understands. God, you feel like such a bum right now.

"That's rough, I know how that is," he looks like he really does, but of course there's no way he could really understand your situation. He has no idea who you are, he doesn't know where you come from. It almost makes you want to laugh, how you ended up. "Look, it's really not a problem for you to stay with us," he says, his voice soft. "My place is your place and all that." He laughs. You really like hearing him laugh.

"...Thanks," you respond with a small smile, looking him in the eye so he knows you really do mean it. He doesn't exactly live in a mansion but you honestly don't know what you'd do without this chance. Living on the streets, that's not your thing. You can hardly believe this is your life and not just some fucked up nightmare.

"It's just...well we only have one bedroom, and it would be Kasuka's but he refused to sleep there, insisting I take the bed so I'm in there and he's out here, but while you're with us you can sleep on the bed. I'll take the floor," he explains.

You are not about to kick this man out of his bed. As much as it would have disgusted you to have to sleep on the floor your limits have really worn down at this point. You literally slept in an alley way that smelled of piss. "Oh hell no. I'll sleep on the floor."

"No, I insist, it's not very comfortable. Take the bed, it's no problem."

"I'm sleeping on the floor, seriously. I won't take your bed," You intone.

He frowns, but you give him your best unrelenting glare and he seems to cave. "...Fine. I've got a sleeping bag and we'll put a bunch of pillows down on the floor in the bedroom, unless you wanted to be out here then I could-"

"No, no in there is fine," you cut him off, a little too quickly to play down. What can you say? Miss an opportunity to sleep in the same room as someone that attractive? No thanks.

"Alright then, that'll work," Shizuo says, nodding as he cleans up the trash from dinner and heads into the bedroom. You consider following him but think better of it. Instead, you sit on the couch and look down at your hands.

You still can't believe your luck. You wonder if this is a pretext to some kind of malicious plot for murder or something, but think better of it. You doubt there's an evil bone in Shizuo's body. Either way, you don't have all that many options. You're not sure what you would've done if you had to continue living on the streets. It's not an experience you're keen on repeating. Not that you ever pictured yourself as a freeloader, but them's the breaks.

You're startled as Shizuo calls your name for what seems not the first time to catch your attention. "Come over here," he tells you, standing in the doorway of his bedroom. You walk over to him and peer inside. He's laid out a set-up similar to Kasuka's next to the bed, with a ton of pillows and blankets, some of which you suspect are from his own bed."I gotta get to the bar but make yourself at home. You're free to use the shower or get something from the fridge, whatever you want. I won't be back until 3 or so," he explains, still dressed in the uniform from before, as he turns and walks to the door. "Kasuka! I'm going," he calls out as he puts his shoes on and leaves the two of you alone again.

You consider what he said, cursing yourself for not having any other clothes than the ones on your back. You've been wearing these for awhile now, and no doubt you stink from rifling through garbage cans for a week, without bathing, and a shower sounds so good right now. On the other hand, you're hardly comfortable using someone else's shower, and though you know you'll have to get over that, it seems pointless with nothing to change into afterward. Why put dirty clothes on a clean body? You resignedly accept that you won't get to shower tonight and hope Shizuo and Kasuka don't think you stink too much. You don't think they'd say anything if they did; Shizuo's too nice and you actually haven't heard Kasuka say anything at all yet.

You do look through the fridge, though, because you're feeling pretty dehydrated. There's not much to find as it happens; they have a jug of water but the contents of the fridge are sparse and barren. Not too much food, or ingredients, or really anything. There's what looks to be leftovers of some kind but you're not too sure of what. You pour yourself a glass of water, because you've always been a snob about drinking from the tap (though you admit half drinken soda felt much grosser) and gulp in down in seconds, immediately pouring another. You didn't realise exactly how thirsty you were until you're on your fourth cup, where it starts to slow down.

You put the jug away and place the cup in the sink, feeling bloated now. At some point Kasuka had emerged from wherever and was now reading something on the couch. He was quiet as a mouse you guess because you didn't even hear him come out. You use the opportunity to use the bathroom. It, like the rest of the house, is small. It's made up of just a counter with a mirror, a toilet, and a shower/bathtub mix. You fondly remember the hot tub you used to have in your old apartment as you wash your hands. You really cannot wait to take a fucking shower, briefly flashing back to your desperate "truck stop wash" of not three days ago. Which was disgusting. Someone like you was not made for the streets.

You wander across the hall into Shizuo's bedroom, taking another look around. He's got some books piled on the floor in the corner you notice, and you wonder whether they're his or Kasuka's. You're not really sure if you'd peg Shizuo as the "learned" type. The thought strikes you as rude so you shake it off. You've been sleeping on and off all day but somehow you still feel lethargic, so you plop down to test the makeshift bed. It's actually not half bad in the comfort department; you've never really needed a sleeping bag before but you find you like it and it's texture. You stretch out, expecting another little nap, but after a few moments you're out like a light.

It's dark, but you're aware of when Shizuo gets home. He makes very little noise coming in, trying not to wake anyone no doubt. He closes the bedroom door softly, and you hear what sounds like clothes hitting the floor before the bed squeaks under his weight. You're tempted to look over at him, but instead you pretend to be asleep and let him just do his thing. He stops moving after awhile, but you're still hyper aware of his presence. It takes awhile for you to settle back down and think about sleeping. When you do, you're struck with the notion that your life has just gotten a lot more interesting.